


under the light of the full moon

by ravenraiyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, basically this is a teen wolf au, with clarke as the alpha & bellamy as a banshee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenraiyes/pseuds/ravenraiyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is a werewolf. </p><p>Like a legit, howling under the full moon, transforming underneath the night sky once a month, half-man half-canine that you’d only think existed in storybooks. </p><p>-----</p><p>Teen Wolf AU, anyone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	under the light of the full moon

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys like it!

Clarke is a werewolf.

Like a legit, howling under the full moon, transforming underneath the night sky once a month, half-man half-canine that you’d only think existed in storybooks.

And she’s going to be late for school again, god fucking _dammit._

The alarm blares angrily at her as she bolts out of bed, and she’s wondering groggily why the hell her super enhanced hearing hadn’t been triggered by said alarm as she quickly brushes her teeth.

Stumbling into her bedroom, she starts pulling on random articles of clothing that she hopes doesn’t exude a nasty odor to her classmates, despite the slightly sharp stench it gives off to her.

Everything to her smells, because she’s a damn werewolf and of course that means her sense of smell has intensified by ten thousand percent.

(It also means she can totally tell when Jasper and Monty have touched anything belonging to their ‘herbal apothecary’ within the past 24 hours, despite their heavy denial.)

Slamming her hand down on the stupid snooze button - and breaking the alarm  in the process due to her newfound strength - she mutters angrily as she slips into a pair of flip flops and an _Ark High School_ hoodie before sprinting downstairs and out the door.

She returns a few moments later, grumbling at the fact that she forget to fucking put on _pants_ of all things.

+++

Clarke makes it to school approximately 0.8 seconds before the final bell rings, ignoring the dirty looks her homeroom teacher - a Mr. Shumway, who’s always had it out for her ever since he’d learned that her mother was the one and only Principal Griffin - gives her, and instead, turning to find that her usual seat in the back of class has been taken by someone else.

Bellamy Blake, the bane of her existence, the super hot (or so she’s been told; she can’t take a look at him without resisting the urge to gouge out her eyeballs), super annoying playboy of Ark High School, infamous for his one night stands.

Clarke thinks that he resembles a five year old than anything else, judging by how much he just _loves_ to yank on her pigtails.

Figuratively, anyway.

She ditched that pigtails in second grade, not that Bellamy Blake would ever let her forget.

He’s sitting there, all smug and smarmy and it takes nearly all of her willpower to not stalk over there and toss him out ~~the window~~ of his seat.

 

When he notices that she’s shooting eye daggers at him, he shoots her a wink and a smirk and she can hear all the girls in the room sigh a bit.

Literally.

(Sometimes, she thinks, being a werewolf sucks some serious ass.)

She nearly fucking growls at him to get out of her seat - it’s been a really rough morning, alright? - when Raven yanks on her arm and shoves her into the desk next to hers.

“Pick your battles, Griffin,” Raven rolls her eyes, raising her hand when Shumway calls out attendance. “No one wants to see a bloodbath before eight in the morning.”

Clarke just huffs and crosses her arms, refusing to give Bellamy the satisfaction of her annoyance and how much grief his presence causes her.

She could probably take him anyday, despite his total _‘i go to the gym and have a nice six pack that would put the old spice man to shame_ ’ act that he loves to show off during the period they have P.E. together.

_Oh, it’s on, Blake. It’s on like Donkey Kong._  She thinks angrily, facing forward as Shumway begins his lecture upon the molecular structure of sugars, pausing in her note taking when she accidently grips her pencil too hard and it breaks cleanly in half.

“Here, She-Man,” Raven laughs at her own joke before tossing another pencil Clarke’s way. “We have got to sign you up for anger management classes. Either that, or just lock you and Blake in a closet so you can get rid of all that sexual tension. I'm pretty sure keeping it bottled up isn't very good for your health.”

Needless to say, _that_ pencil doesn’t last long either.

+++

Clarke’s tired, she’s hungry, it’s twelve o’clock at night and she’s got school tomorrow morning,  but there’s something on the police radio station that intrigues her and Raven.

Okay, so maybe she’s taken advantage of the fact that Raven’s a whiz at machines to hook them up to the police scanner. She argues that it’s just due to the fact that there is always something supernatural  running amok in Grounder Hills, and that she wants to keep her people safe.

“There’s a dead body here, code eight oh four, I repeat, code eight oh four,” comes the scratchy voice of her dad, Jake Griffin, who also happens to be the sheriff for the Grounder Hills police department.

 

Clarke frowns at Raven, who mouths, “New werewolf?” as she grabs a sip of her coffee, before the radio crackles again, signaling a new development in the discovery.

“It appears to be a male of Asian descent, somewhere in his thirties? There’s this one long gash along his throat, that seems to have done the poor guy in - Put your hands up!”

Clarke nearly leaps out of her chair at the intrusion; could the murderer still be there at the scene?

“This is Jake Griffin, GHPD! Put your hands where I can see them!” Her dad’s panicked cries filter through the crappy old thing, and Clarke’s throwing on her jacket in a hurry, stumbling out the door as Raven lets out an annoyed, “Goddamnit Clarke! What am I going to tell your mom?”

“Tell her I’m at a party - she’ll love _that_ ,” Clarke answers, sprinting out the door.

She really hopes she makes it to her dad before whoever is out there hurts him.

+++

As it turns out, she finds that it’s Bellamy Blake at the scene.

He’s disoriented, pale, but she’s pretty sure it’s Bellamy Blake, judging by his broad shoulders and his tanned, freckled face.

(She’d recognize that face anywhere; she’s seen it almost too many times in her nightmares.)

Except it’s not the one that’s usual smirking and calling her princess and making fun of her 24/7 - it’s one that is absolutely fucking _terrified._

Gone are the charming smiles and sly quips that usually has her barking angrily to the point where she’s flushed red, instead, he’s shivering in the back of the patrol car, clutching the blanket wrapped around his shoulders tightly.

“Let me talk to him, dad,” she pleads, telling her father that Bellamy Blake is not a murderer, surprising herself with the words but realizing their truth as soon as she says it.

Bellamy Blake is not a murderer.

However, as she'll realize later on, he _is_ a banshee.

 ****  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments? thoughts? want it continued? please tell me so down below or on my [tumblr](http://grounderbell.tumblr.com/)


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